Homage
by DealingDearie
Summary: A series of drabbles written for Loki Week over on Tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

**Day One: Forms and Costumes (Jotun!Loki)**

It was a testament to his willpower that the mirror was still intact, that he hadn't broken down and driven his fist through it already, with its traitorous image staring back at him in colors of indigo and crimson.

It was a testament to his instability that he was even considering it.

With those treacherous, ancient runes running over his skin like carved slices of flesh, his own appearance disgusted him. Blood-red eyes staring unblinkingly at his reflection, his face a foreign, betrayed mask of horror, he took a moment to think clearly.

This is what Odin had stared at in subdued disdain, what he had glanced over to see the false truth beneath, what he had failed to accept deep down.

This is what Frigga had smiled down at in that motherly, warm way of hers, what she had unconditionally loved, what she had overlooked for what she believed to be true.

This is what Thor had refused to actually witness, what he had denied for the sake of memory, what Loki had tried to get him to see.

This is what Laufey had tossed away and what Loki had found no worth in, and how fitting that he find the thought so entertaining now.

Such a worthless waste his life had been, if all that had ever lurked beneath it was a monster unable to be saved, he thought bitterly.

Such a very awful waste, if all he was left with in all the years after was the face of a beast, glaring at him with those eyes, holding all the memories and truths he'd tried so hard to run away from.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Day Two: Character Traits (Mischief/Magic) & Day Three: Magic and Tricks (because I had no time to write another one and it fits both prompts)**

_Wait for it_, he thought to himself with greedy anticipation, heart pounding as the sound of his rushing blood flooded his ears. The people around him milled about, oblivious, and he was left in a small, abandoned corner with eager eyes glowing bright emerald in the shadows, waiting for the right moment. His mother passed by the feast table, weighted with all the food it held up and burdened with the pounding of the fat, excited fists of warriors well-fed.

Loki smirked. _Perfect._

He snapped his fingers and the hall erupted into chaos as dozens of tiny black snakes crawled from the depths of the golden goblets and hissed menacingly at the guests, swaying back and forth in the air to some unheard song. Frigga, startled, backed away with caution and looked around for any sign of him, eyes narrowed with mild irritation, and yet she couldnd never been so afraid in his life, but the tiniest twitch of her mouth made him nearly faint with relief.

He was safe, and here was his home, and his mother was proud of him-_his first proper use of magic._

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	3. Chapter 3

**Day Four: Loki Scenes/Quotes (right before everything went crazy, when things were just black and white in their childhood)**

The world was young, less scarred and more naïve, thriving on the simple notion that things would always be this way, that conflicts would settle and lives would progress neatly and with ease. Odin knew this to be a lie, a false belief instilled in children at early ages, but he didn't have the heart to extinguish that oblivious light in his own sons' eyes, so he remained silent on the matter altogether.

They would find out for themselves soon enough.

They were bright and unburdened and free, unconcerned with the worries of the awakening world, unaware of the evil lurking just outside their fields of vision. So, he told them stories from their past, but they didn't need to know that, and twisted them so that they were moral lessons all kings should learn, knowing all too well that only one could ever be king. He knew which would sit upon the throne, too, but pretended that he didn't, and acted like he didn't hear the pang of an eager need for attention in Loki's voice just as he didn't hear the grin in Thor's.

He closed his eyes as he walked past them, hearing that laughter bubbling up from them at his back, the soft sound of their small, rushed footfalls drifting around him in the weapon's vault. It was perhaps the greatest sin of his life that he go on like this, but at the same time, it was the best decision he'd ever made. Loki watched him as he climbed up the steps and took a deep breath, reaching out, seeking, to grasp Thor's hand in his.

Odin was already too far from him, and the young boy feared he would never again be able to cross the distance, the cursed divide, spanning between them.

So, he tightened his hold on his brother's hand and took another breath. Thor grinned at him and he returned the gesture, ignoring both the sight of Mjolnir to his right and the odd feeling that a weight was descending upon him.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Day Five: Relationships**

When Loki laid his head down to sleep, Frigga was smiling at him within the darkness captured beneath his heavy eyelids, beckoning with her outstretched palm for him to come closer, for him to reach her when they both knew he would never be able.

She always smiled at him, grinned warmly like she used to, just like nothing was wrong, just like Loki wasn't the reason for her demise, just like she was still alive and breathing next to him and carding her aged fingers through his inky hair. It was that same smile that made him feel broken, but he knew that he'd been broken long before ever falling into her loving, welcoming arms.

When Loki found himself awake and aware of his lonely surroundings, standing on the balcony overlooking the city that was still repairing itself, Odin would stand next to him, glancing out at the crumbling buildings and the reconstruction with a disapproving frown.

He never said anything, and it was such an accurate homage to his memory that his image stay silent and stubborn, just like he'd been in life, that Loki almost found it in himself to laughat the ridiculous nature of his present life. Odin usually shook his head, the sunlight shining down and dancing across the golden plate over his eye.

"This is what you wanted," he always murmured knowingly in that exhausted, disappointed kind of way. Loki always ignored him and waited for the moment when the Odin beside him would vanish, waiting for the moment that he might finally find peace from the past so relentlessly chasing him at his back.

When Loki was blessedly alone, seated upon the throne Odin himself had not long ago been seated at, Thor would appear and walk to the very beginning of the large, tall steps, gazing up at Loki with those bright, piercing eyes that were so intensely familiar.

He never smiled, and he never frowned in disapproval, and only ever remained silent and motionless before the throne, red cape billowing in a breeze that Loki knew to be completely imagined.

It was all in his head, this he knew, but the bright and undeniable _sorrow_ on Thor's face haunted Loki more than anything.

The shine of it, looking out from eyes as deep and blue as the ocean, chilled him and made him feel as if he'd just committed the most unforgivable sin, the most atrocious act, the most horrid betrayal.

It felt to Loki as if he'd just been witness to both the greatest tragedy and the very and final end of the world, looking into eyes that no longer cried for him and no longer raged for him and no longer knew him.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Day Six: Villainy and Deaths (but it's really "deaths")**

It was after the initial shock and disappointment that Loki finally found the time to grow, immensely and irrevocably, bitter at the memory of the harsh wind beating upon his cape and howling in his ears, the sound of Odin's refusal branded into his mind, the look of utter horror in Thor's eyes forever haunting him in the silence right after the end of his fall. And what a true, blessed silence it was, really.

Unbeknownst to him, it was the only moment in time that he'd have to take a deep breath, to take in that last single shred of humanity that remained within him from long hours spent mulling over Odin's betrayal and the sting of his life of lies, to take it all in just before he destroyed it yet again. It was a peaceful quiet, a stillness that permeated his bones, and he drank it in and closed his eyes. In the next instant, he opened them to see a cloaked figure approaching, and the oddest smile flitted over his features.

_Reborn_, he thought, _reborn and remade and returned_.

…

It was perhaps the greatest and most tragic moment of his life, clutched within the trembling confines of Thor's arms as the god watched him perish beneath the darkened sky. The raw emotion in his brother's eyes tore at his heart, but his was an inevitable fate, inescapable and undeniable. It was better if he was presumed dead, better for all involved.

Sitting upon the throne as the billowing end of Thor's cape vanished from sight, Loki had to stop and remind himself of that fact. He had to take another moment, bask in the silence falling over the throne room after the crown prince's departure. He had to close his eyes and let it all sink in, let the memories wash over him in gentle, timid waves before falling away completely, and he opened emerald-bright eyes to a new world.

The smile that came over him was one of evil, and he stifled a laugh as it crawled up his throat, the metal of Gungnir cool against his palm.

_Resurrected from the ashes._

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	6. Chapter 6

**Day Seven: Why Loki is more than just a pretty face. **

He was an abandoned thing writhing upon the chilled stone in the wake of destruction, crying with shining, watery eyes up at a stranger with big hands that felt warm against his skin, melting away the ice within. _Safety_.

He was a clinging companion to the woman at his side, gazing down at him so lovingly as he smiled his signature toothy grin that brought out the twinkle in her bright blue eyes. _Familiarity_.

He was the young laughter flitting down the hall as Thor's footfalls fell heavily behind him, the breeze coming in from the windows snaking through his hair. _Family._

He was the disappointment every time Odin favored Thor, the sad glint in his green gaze when he looked to his feet hurriedly. _Isolation_.

He was the shatter in the moment of silence that felt leaden, his entire existence a lie. _Betrayal._

He was the searing tears burning lines down his cheeks when Thor yelled at him in anguish, screaming futilely in the hopes that Loki might return and keep a firm grasp on Gungnir. _Hopeless._

He was the bitter rage swelling in his chest when he looked up to see the humans crowding around him with such pathetic, useless weapons. _Brutality._

He was the stabbing pain of remembrance when Thor pleaded with him on the tower, the flash of memory coming over his features. _Struggle._

He was the grief drowning his heart and mind and soul as he screamed in his cell, hoping that somewhere in some distant part of Valhalla Frigga would hear his mournful, apologetic sobs from the deep, forgotten dungeons. _Loss._

He was the tightness invading his throat at the tears welling in Thor's eyes beneath the stormy sky, the sorrow on his face so very plain and heartbreaking. _Remorse._

He was the laugh cast from a seat upon the throne, echoing through the empty hall and making his heart pound in tandem with the rapid pulse of power felt against his palm as he held the staff. _Freedom._

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